


In Case You Forget Her

by RedGold



Series: For SSGarcy [1]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/M, Flynn deserved better, Flynn needs a hug, Lucy showed her true colors in the movie, Medical History, Prompt Fic, Titanic mission, domino effects, the fic (no)one person asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 13:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17326046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedGold/pseuds/RedGold
Summary: Rufus survives Chinatown, so the future laid out in the journal comes to pass and leaves Flynn a broken man.The Team then returns from a mission to discover a new addition to the bunker crew: a medic. Where did this person come from, and how did they impact the lives of the team? What truth must Flynn accept about himself?Written from a Twitter Prompt.





	In Case You Forget Her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatBoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatBoat/gifts).



> This story was written in response to a Twitter post by SSGarcy who, to sum up, said that Garcia Flynn needed to have something good after the character assassination and travesty that was the Timeless Movie. Specific details of the prompt will be placed at the end because spoilers.

**In Case You Forget Her**

“Wyatt!” Flynn hears Lucy scream, because of course she does.

Cursing in three languages, Flynn cranes his neck to figure out what happened. He can’t let his attention slip too much because he’s also trying to keep Claudette Colvin safe from the Rittenhouse men trying to kill her. Claudette would start the domino effect that would end in Rosa Park’s famed refusal to give up her seat. Flynn knew all about domino effects.

Great, just great. Wyatt was shot, on the train platform, and Lucy was tucked behind a crate that was taking fire.

“Get the car started,” he says to Rufus who is hotwiring a brand new 1955 Chevy Bel Air. Flynn has no time to appreciate the craftsmanship of the vehicle as he lightly shoves the pregnant Claudette into the backseat. “Stay down.”

Swapping out his empty magazine for a new one, Flynn takes a breath and does what he always does: save Lucy and the annoying twerp she was in love with. Because he was a sucker with nothing else to do with his life.

Firing towards the Rittenhouse men, he sees his opportunity. They were at Montgomery Union Station, and there were some fuel barrels conveniently between themselves and Rittenhouse. And, as Lorena would say, when in doubt, blow something up. To be fair, she was a military combat engineer, and that was pretty much her job description.

Three shots is all it takes to set the barrels aflame. In the chaos, he is able to gun down the men who were chasing them. Flynn moves forward and sees that Wyatt isn’t dead, just bleeding, a lot. It’s not a mortal wound, no, he’s seen plenty of those. Get Wyatt medical help in a reasonable amount of time and he’d be okay. 

“Can you walk?” Flynn asks as he scans for any surprise attackers while grabbing a fistful of Wyatt’s jacket to haul him up.

“Yeah,” he says but his breathing is labored. 

“Wyatt!” Lucy yells again, coming to help them get to the car as speedily as possible.

Rufus has the engine running, he’s behind the wheel and ready to go. Wyatt is shoved into the backseat with Claudette, Lucy crawling in after. Flynn gets himself into the front passenger seat, the space a bit cramped for his liking but he isn’t going to complain.

“Where to?” Rufus asks as they tear away from the train station.

“Back to E.D. Nixon’s,” Lucy says as she uses her scarf to put pressure on the wound. “We’ll drop off Claudette, she’ll be safe there. That was the last of them, right?”

“We got them,” Flynn replied, feeling good that they had indeed taken out all of the Rittenhouse sleepers. 

“Think you can make it to the Lifeboat?” Lucy asked Wyatt who was breathing heavily, but he still had color in his face so that was a good sign. “Or do you want to risk a 1950s hospital?”

“I can make it to the Lifeboat,” he assured her after a second of thinking about that. 

“Good, Nixon’s is on the way out of town.”

Claudette looked between them. “I appreciate you saving my life and all, but you are some very strange individuals.”

“We’ve having an off day.” Rufus shrugs and continues to drive. 

They get to Nixon’s house, the man taking one look at the scene inside the Bel Air and not wanting to know. Claudette is left in his care and Wyatt was still doing… okay. Lucy was continuing to keep pressure on the wound and it wasn’t like he hadn’t had worse. And if Flynn couldn’t kill the man, he doubted Rittenhouse would have any better luck.

Rufus and Lucy went into the Lifeboat first, helping to pull Wyatt in as Flynn shoved. They got Wyatt into a seat as Flynn waited outside until there was room for him to get in. He looked back at the car. While Flynn was nowhere near a car-guy like Wyatt was, he could appreciate a good-looking classic when he saw one. The owner was going to miss it, they might never find it out there in the woods.

It never occurred to Flynn that the owner had sunk his savings into the car and would not be able to replace it so quickly. The man was then caught up in the Montgomery Bus Boycott and failed to make an appointment. This started a chain of events which meant one family did not move as they originally did. That their children and grandchildren went to different schools, took different paths in life. And in 2018, when a call is made, someone else is there to answer it.

“We got wounded,” Flynn yells as the door opens, the ladder being rolled in front. 

“Mira!” Jiya shouts and Flynn thinks he must have misheard but he’s too busy helping get Wyatt out of his seat. 

Lucy exits the Lifeboat first, so Flynn has room to maneuver Wyatt, pulling him onto the stepladder. He’s not paying attention to anything but where his feet are going so he doesn’t accidently throw the man down the stairs. When he realizes Lucy has paused on the steps, he’s confused until he looks up. 

“Who are you?” Lucy askes the woman with brown, curly hair who is standing next to Jiya, a medical kit slung on one shoulder. 

“This is Mira,” Jiya says slowly, carefully. “Our medic.”

“We have a medic?” Rufus asks from where he’s peeked around them.

“I guess we do now,” Wyatt says wryly, then winces from the pain. 

This newcomer, Mira, looked to be in her late-thirties and there was something distinctly Balkan about her appearance, from her skin tone to the subtle shapes of her face. Flynn swears he sees a look of utter devastation in the woman’s eyes as she looks at him, but it’s gone as soon as she hears Wyatt’s groan. 

“What do we have?” her voice is firm, collected, professional, and experienced. 

“Wyatt’s been shot,” Lucy says and quickly finishes her descent.

Once Flynn and Wyatt are the ground, Mira has her gloves on and she’s taking a cursory look at the wound. “Let’s get him to the med room.”

“We have a med room now too?” Rufus asks, dutifully getting his arm around Wyatt’s other side to help the man move. 

After the Jessica fiasco where they all nearly died, they knew they had to get out of the bunker. They ended up in what was actually a nicer place, as abandoned warehouses go, but they still called it the bunker. There were two working bathrooms, though only one had a shower. And everyone had their own room, especially now that Wyatt and Lucy were sharing.

One of the spares had indeed been turned into a medical room. It looked like it had been cleaned and re-painted. Cabinets full of supplies lined against a wall, and a clear door refrigerator sat against the other.

“Get him on the bed,” Mira ordered as she went to the fridge and pulled out a blood packet.

“Why did we never think of this before?” Rufus asked the very reasonable question as they laid Wyatt on the medical bed.

“I need everyone out,” Mira said, prepping Wyatt’s arm so she could put the butterfly needle for the blood transfusion. 

“I’m not leaving his side,” Lucy told her. There was just the hint of ‘I don’t know you, I’m going to trust you, but I don’t know you’ in her voice.

“Fine, then you’re assisting.” Mira has experienced hands, slipping in the needle and getting the blood going quickly and smoothly. “Scrub up, we don’t need 1950s germs creating sepsis.”

“Right,” Lucy went to the sink and the rest of them started to back out. 

Flynn got one last glance at Mira as he exited, her eyes flicking up to his, a sense of familiarity in hers that did not mirror in his own. But then her attention was back on Wyatt as she cut his shirt so she could access the wound. He had seen her type before, able to compartmentalize when a job needed to be done. It was a handy skill for a field medic who might have to perform surgery in a combat zone.

“So, when did we get a medic?” Rufus asked as Mason joined them in the hall.

“You don’t remember?” Mason asked, glancing at Jiya who shook her head in a manner that read ‘they don’t know.’ But it was more than them not knowing they had a medic. What else didn’t they know?

“What’s happened?” Christopher was the last to show.

“Wyatt’s been shot,” Jiya told her. “Mira is taking care of it. He should be okay.”

“Good,” the woman nodded. “The mission a success?”

“Depends,” Rufus seemed oblivious to the looks passing between Mason and Jiya. “Did Rosa Parks refuse to give up her seat and that triggered the Montgomery Bus Boycott?”

“Yes.”

“Then it was a success.”

“I like a win.” Christopher nodded. “Get yourselves cleaned up. We’ll debrief later once Wyatt’s patched up.”

“Wait,” Jiya grabbed the agent’s arm as she was about to leave. “They don’t remember Mira.”

Christopher paused, taking quick glances between them. “You don’t remember her?” 

“No,” Rufus shook his head. “But, in hindsight, having a medic in the bunker with us was probably a smart move, all things considered.”

“Our thoughts exactly,” Christopher nearly mumbled. 

“When did she get here?” Flynn asked, wondering why suddenly no one would look at him.

“Salem,” Christopher answered, clearing out whatever was bothering her and going into boss, aka mom, mode. “She was the medic that came in to help Lucy after she was stabbed.”

“I remember that,” Rufus interrupted. “It was a guy before.”

“It was whoever was on call that night.” Christopher shrugged. “Anyway, she came back after you got the crap beat out of you during the protests. She discovered what was happening, and she wanted to help. And yeah, having an onsite medic was a good idea.”

Flynn listened to her words and everything made sense, but, “What aren’t you telling us?”

“A lot,” Christopher sighed. “Her name is Mira Botev, she’s a military doctor, and she’s been with us almost two years now. Let’s just… let her finish with Wyatt, then we can make proper introductions.”

Jiya moved to take Rufus’ hands. “Come on, let’s get you into more comfortable clothes.”

“I thought I looked dashing,” Rufus only sounded mildly hurt.

“You two have fun,” Flynn groused, slightly annoyed at how adorable they were together. “I’m getting the shower first.”

“I’ll rock, paper, scissor you for it.”

“I have blood all over me,” Flynn said bluntly.

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Rufus moved aside. “Save some hot water for me at least?”

“I’ll think about it,” he snarked but there wasn’t much bite in it. 

Flynn glanced back into the medical room, Lucy hovering over Wyatt but apparently obeying Mira’s orders. He would say that it hurt, that pain stabbed at him, but there was nothing there to be wounded. Not anymore at least.

His room was still in the same place, small miracle. He walked in, noticed that it did seem a little off, a little more… lived in. The room had a bit more soul than just being a place to not-sleep as nightmares and guilt kept him awake. Something was definitely different about this timeline and it nagged at him, like it was obvious, and he was just being dense.

He was tired. Emma could be sitting naked on his bed and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

Grabbing a quick change of clothes, he went to the shower, once again walking past the med room. He glanced in just in time to see Lucy kissing Wyatt on the forehead and telling him something, probably that everything was going to be okay.

He got into the shower and turned it extra hot. God, he was a sucker.

The journal told him it wouldn’t work out, that Lucy loved Wyatt and, in the end, she would always choose Wyatt. But time is in flux, things change, that was the whole damn point in the first place. Stop Rittenhouse. Save his family. Find love again. 

So far he was naught for three.

He wanted to be angry at Lucy. She didn’t want to be Wyatt’s second choice, but had no issue in Flynn being hers. Wyatt made his apologies to Lucy, was at least _trying_ to be a better person, from what Flynn could see, but that was a long ass road Lucy had decided to walk down. 

But that was her choice, Flynn wasn’t going to even assume he had any right to make it for her.

That left Flynn with… nothing. 

Lucy and Wyatt had each other. Rufus and Jiya had each other. Christopher had Michelle and their kids. Mason had surrogate children in Rufus and Jiya. They all had each other. 

For a time, Flynn had Lucy, first as a friend, then that short-lived time as a lover. Now, she was still his friend, but gone were the days where they could sit down and actually talk to each other. Couldn’t risk making Wyatt overly jealous… that’s how he got his first wife killed.

Flynn turned off the water, feeling petty. It wasn’t like he hadn’t said his peace before. Pointed out how Wyatt treated her. Lucy said she knew, she remembered, but… that was the past. 

“Let the past stay in the past,” she had told him, then realized what she said.

“Not all of it.” Flynn may never get back what he had with Lucy, but he was still going to find a way to save his family. Bring them back, then walk away from them so they could live their lives without his dark shadow to weigh them down.

If he could steal a quote, it seemed like he was made to suffer alone, that was his lot in life.

Cleaned, dried, and redressed, Flynn went back to his room. Feeling a little energized from the heat, he figured he’d take a look around and see just what had changed. There were a few more books, a couple of extra nick-knacks from travel, a new laptop, and things were tidier. Not that he was ever a slob, but there are levels of cleanliness. The whole room reminded him of something...

Those months when he and Lorena were stationed at the same base… and they spent most of their intimate time in his room because he had a single and she had to share.

There was a hamper, by the closet, and Flynn riffled through it. Just as he thought, women’s clothes and underwear mixed in with his own. He could immediately rule out Jiya and Christopher. And the size wasn’t right for Lucy, nor did they seem her style. That left only one other woman in the building… the medic, Mira.

Flynn stumbled back and sat on the bed. It was a double, the sheet and blanket folded down with military trimness. The bed likely saw many things between him and the medic. The woman who he could acknowledge was very pretty, with that air of command about her that, well, okay, he has a type. 

But the whole thing with Lucy, even though it was like a flash in a pan, was something he was only just starting to get over, move on from. The timing wasn’t right, unless this was some kind of friends with benefits thing, which he would never do, or he was pulling the same shit that was pulled on him, which he would also never do.

Something caught his eye, sticking out from under his pillow. Reaching for it, he found a manila envelope. It was the best place for it to be if he wanted it easily found but not casually seen. 

On the front, in his handwriting, were the words ‘In Case You Forget Her’ written in Croatian.

Flynn opened it slowly, a multitude of emotions swimming through him. Was the her referring to Mira? Why did he feel the need to write a note to himself about her?

Tucked inside were several sheets of paper, Croatian scrawled across every inch almost in mimic to the journal. 

_**If you’re reading this, that means something has happened and Mira is still here, but you’ve forgotten her. I worried that one day this might happen. Too many people have come and gone, alive or dead, born or erased.** _

_**While I can’t be sure what the timeline would be like without her, I can at least tell you what it was with her. Then you can make any decisions from there.** _

_**Let me start from the beginning, the day that Reagan was shot.** _

Flynn watched Christopher leave to go see her family. Granted, if she was killed back in the 80s, she would never know what she lost… or maybe she would. Lorena would say that somehow, in whatever comes next, Christopher would know what happened. And every moment, every minute, every second, was too precious to give up. 

He went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. The memories of that terrible night never failed to hurt him, no matter how much time had passed.

“I can prescribe you something if you’re having trouble sleeping,” Mira said from where she was sitting at the table, doing her own paperwork. She was called in when the team left, so she’d be there when they got back in case of injury. 

“I’m good, thanks,” he said, knowing it was a lie. 

“Just because your body gives you nightmares and insomnia doesn’t mean you have to accept it,” she replied, looking up at him. “The body and the mind are actually some of the most stupidly designed machines, always messing up. That’s why we invented medicine.”

“And drugs?” he said dryly, taking a swig of beer.

“Oh, we have all sorts of reasons for inventing drugs,” she said with a slight twinkle in her eye, a light laugh. “But you could just substitute a nice herbal tea instead of beer before bedtime.”

He stared at her for a solid two minutes before she burst out laughing.

“Funny,” he tried to pretend that he didn’t find it funny.

“Seriously though,” she caught her breath. “As a medical professional, and as someone who’s been there, it’s okay to accept that sometimes the body just, messes up, and we have to correct it.”

Flynn frowned at her. “Someone who’s been there?”

Mira blinked, realizing her mistake, her overshare. Then, accepting her fate, she reached up to tug on her shirt collar, quickly revealing a set of dog tags with two rings settled between them. “I don’t often wear my ring because I don’t want it to get in the way when doing surgery. I did that when he was alive too, he understood.”

“I’m sorry,” Flynn replied softly, his thumb touching his own wedding ring, twisting it on his finger to let him know the weight was still there.

“So am I,” she said, glancing at his hand, even as her own wrapped around the dog tags. “I never take this off. I carry him in my heart, but this is something that I can _feel_.”

“Yeah.” There was definitely a moment of kindship there, of understanding. “What kind of military man was he?”

“Marine,” she answered with a hard swallow. “I’m not even sure how he died. Black Ops and all that. I like to think he did his part in saving the world.”

Flynn judged her for a second as he leaned against the counter. “Is that why you wanted to work with us? You want to try to save him?”

“I’d be a damn liar if I said it didn’t cross my mind,” she admitted with a shrug, still gripping the dog tags. “Brian knew what he was getting into. _I_ knew what he was getting into. I can accept what happened. Your family…” she paused just long enough to see that he wasn’t going to stop her. “They were innocents, they were murdered. It was unacceptable what happened to them. And I hope you get them back.”

“I will,” he said as much to himself as to Mira. “Somehow, I will. Thank you.”

Quiet passed through the room before Mira finally tucked her husband’s dog tags back under her shirt. 

“Does it get any easier?” Flynn asked her. “Letting go of him?”

“Yeah, it does,” she answered sadly. “And you hate yourself a little bit because of it. And then you don’t, because you know misery is the last thing they’d want for you.”

_**Mira was a friend. Sure, everyone filled her in on all my past deeds, but she didn’t look at me like a monster. She didn’t judge me for my past actions. I would have thought myself special, but she treated us all the same.** _

_**She’s a doctor, it’s what they do.** _

_**Then Jessica happened, kidnapping Jiya who we lost to time. Getting her back had been nearly catastrophic. We almost lost Rufus, almost lost myself, taking far too much damage from Emma’s attack. But we got home, we got patched up, and we got moved.** _

_**The suggestion was made, since we had the extra space, for Mira to move in rather than her treat it like a nine to five. There was a vote, I agreed it wasn’t a bad idea. I honestly didn’t think about it all that much.** _

“I fold,” Mira said, throwing her cards down.

There wasn’t a lot to do in the bunker, especially when they had to wait and see what Rittenhouse’s next move might be. Jiya had made a living being a card dealer back in Chinatown, a skill she had become deft at. It wouldn’t be surprising to find a game going using the old standard of chore passes as currency.

Rufus had also folded, so it was down to Flynn and Wyatt. 

“I’ll raise you scrubbing the toilet,” Wyatt said, tossing the piece of paper on the pile. 

The man was bluffing, Flynn could tell. Wyatt was, regrettably, a good soldier, but he would make a lousy spy. Wyatt’s tells were something Flynn didn’t always take advantage of, because sometimes you have to lose a battle to win a war. But tonight, Flynn was particularly pissed at Wyatt, and had been for a few days. 

Wyatt had nearly gotten Lucy killed because they had ran into Jessica on a mission and got distracted. Apparently the pregnancy stuff was all a lie, which, okay, Flynn could understand Wyatt being upset over it. But still, Lucy got hurt because of him, again.

“I’ll call your bluff,” Flynn said, tossing in a couple of minor chores that added the same value as toilet scrubbing. 

Half an hour later, the game had broken up because it was late, Wyatt was out of chore passes, and Rufus and Jiya wanted to have some personal time. 

“Feel better?” Mira said, grinning into her beer.

“Much.” Flynn gathered the passes, stacking them neatly.

Mira laughed. “It’s the simple things in life.”

“Yeah.” His own laugh turned melancholy half way through. 

“Well, I’m turning in,” she said as she stood. “Try to get some sleep tonight.”

Mira didn’t have to walk past him to leave, but she did, putting her hand on his shoulder and giving it a light pat and squeeze. It was a friendly enough gesture, nothing untoward about it. Lord knows how many times he had done similar things to his friends before his life fell apart. 

“Why do you do that?” Flynn asked her before she could get more than a few feet away.

“Why do I do what?” she asked, turning around.

“Things like that,” he said, gesturing to his shoulder. He wouldn’t say she did it often, but the fact she did it at all...

"I'm sorry, I can stop,” Mira replied, seemingly worried that maybe he didn’t like to be touched.

On the contrary, he missed it, god did he miss it. And not just intimate touch, that was something else entirely. No, he felt the loss of casual touching far deeper. Of just having a connection with someone else. Of knowing that things were real, not a dream, and that someone cared enough to get close enough. 

Not even Lucy got that close to him, though he reasoned that was because she was fighting her feelings for him. 

“No, it’s fine,” he assured Mira. “I was just curious.” _Because you’re the only one who does it,_ was left unsaid.

Mira shrugged, seemingly at a loss. “Why wouldn’t I do it?”

“Fair enough.” Flynn nodded, then she turned and left. 

A few weeks later, when they had another near failure of a mission that left them all battered and bruised, she hugged him. She was the only one who did, and he appreciated that more than he would ever say.

_**I don’t know when my feelings started to shift. I was a bit caught up in, well, everything, and Mira wasn’t exactly trying to woo me either.** _

_**I was far too occupied with Lucy. We would stay up late and talk. It was good, real good, at first. But after a while, it started to turn repetitive. Lucy was hung up on Wyatt, on her role in Rittenhouse, and protecting history. While it was good not to keep these things in, we rarely ever talked about anything else.** _

_**Maybe I wouldn’t have noticed, if not for the fact I also found myself increasingly chatting with Mira about whatever. She is the child of Bulgarian immigrants, btw, so we found a common ground there in other topics we could discuss. Sports, entertainment, philosophy... one particularly heated discussion regarding pineapple and how tomatoes are the only fruit that belong on a pizza.** _

_**Then came a turning point: polio.** _

“Boston, March, 1948,” Lucy said, her mind searching for an answer.

“Children’s Hospital Boston,” Mira spoke and everyone turned to her. “In March, 1948, virologists at Children’s Hospital Boston made some major breakthroughs which directly led to the development of a polio vaccination.” Everyone continued to blankly stare. “I’m a doctor, we learned about this in med school.”

“Why would Rittenhouse want to not eradicate polio?” Rufus asked.

“Money?” Mira offered. “Get control of the vaccination, at the beginning, I mean, have you all considered that Martin Shkreli might be Rittenhouse?”

“I’ll look into it,” Christopher said, gesturing to the Lifeboat. “But for now, I like my kids being vaccinated, so get going.”

“Wait,” Lucy stopped them. “What if I set this one out and Mira takes my seat.”

“What?” Mira looked a tad panicked. 

“You’re a doctor, you know your medical history, you’ll be far more useful in this instance than I,” Lucy explained. “And if Rittenhouse thinks I left to go chase them down, then that frees me up in the present to do some things.”

“What things?” Flynn asked.

“Go back to my mother’s house, for starters,” Lucy answered quickly as if she had been thinking about this for a while. “See what I can find on Rittenhouse.”

There was a little back and forth. Wyatt worried about leaving Lucy behind to go after Rittenhouse alone. Flynn pointed out she had Christopher but that didn’t keep him from silently worrying as well. Mira was not keen on going hurtling through time and space. But, in the end, if they wanted to get ahead of Rittenhouse, they had to start thinking outside the box.

_**I hate to think how that mission would have went without Mira, but I’m sure we would have thought of something.** _

Flynn was dressed in a pinstripe suit similar to the one he wore in Germany, 1944. He kept checking the door in case Wyatt and Rufus failed to take out the Rittenhouse agent. “How much longer?”

“As long as it takes,” Mira replied through gritted teeth as she messed around with cultures and test tubes. She had stolen a more streamlined dress when they got there. A black pleated skirt and a polka dot blouse with quarter sleeves so her hands would be free. “I haven’t worked with cultures in a while, you don’t want any cross contamination, and, oh, just the fate of the millions of lives on the line.”

“Take a breath, don’t think about it. You’d doing great.”

An hour later, a thirty-two-year-old nicely dressed gentleman came down the hall and walked into the room. 

“Mr. Weller,” Mira said with relief, pulling on her black lacy dress gloves. “So glad you look no worse for wear.”

“It has been one strange day, yes,” he cleared his throat and straightened his jacket.

“I’m sure it will get better.” Mira gathered her things as Flynn gestured that they should go now. “I’ve set everything up for you.”

“Oh, thank you.” Weller looked a bit curious. “After the day I’ve had, I was going to scrap everything and go home.”

“Can’t have that, now can we?”

Flynn got Mira out of the building and towards the rendezvous point. Hopefully, if all went to plan, Wyatt would take out the sleeper and meet them in the park. Finding a nice corner where Flynn could see all angles, he sat them down on a bench to wait.

“You okay?” he asked her.

“Terrified, actually.” Mira was taking measured breaths, trying to calm herself. “I mean, here I am, in 1948, making sure the fucking polio vaccine stays on track to be made. I’m a doctor, I deal with high pressure situations all the time, hell, give me mortars hitting the roof as I pull shrapnel out of a man’s chest cavity, been there, done that, but this...” 

He took her gloved hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, she was trembling after being solid as a rock while setting up the test samples. “It takes some getting used to, I was trembling the first time too.”

“When you stole the Mothership and went back to the Hindenburg?” she tried to make it sound sarcastically funny, and he didn’t fault her that it fell flat. 

“You’re doing fine,” he told her, giving her hand another squeeze. 

Flynn needed to distract Mira, and he glanced around to find a subject that might interest her. But the park was pretty much empty at that time, no vendors or people with funny looking hats. They were alone... and it wasn’t lost on him that this was the first time they had ever been alone together. He only saw her in the crowed bunker, always the chance of someone being just around the corner. He knows, because he was occasionally that person.

“Can I talk to you about something personal?” he asked Mira.

She glanced over at him. “Like... doctor-patient confidentiality personal?” 

“Yeah.”

“Yes, of course.” Mira took her hand out of his and turned slightly towards him, taking refuge in her doctor persona. She was focused on him, a single patient, rather than the multitudes of children who would be saved by the polio vaccine. 

“You know about the journal, right?” Flynn asked and when she nodded, he continued. “It, it had some gaps, like it didn’t warn me about Amy, or Emma, or Jessica. But it did tell me about... about Lucy and I.”

“What did it say?” she prompted him when he stalled out.

“It said that we would become lovers.” It was the first time he said it out loud.

Mira’s face remained neutral, she was listening to him. 

“It also said,” he let out a sad laugh. “It said that it would end spectacularly badly because Lucy loves Wyatt, will always love Wyatt, and there is nothing I can do about it.”

He stalled again, so Mira asked, “There’s a question in here, isn’t there?”

“Yeah, I suppose there is.” Flynn took a deep breath. “I learned the hard way that the journal can’t always be trusted, but I do feel this connection, this tug, between Lucy and I. I’ve felt it ever since... well... ever since she handed the journal to me, in São Paulo.”

Mira thought this over. “So you’re questioning if the foretold crash and burn is just another mistake in the journal?”

“I love her,” he nearly whispered. “Am I just kidding myself?”

“Unfortunately, only time will tell,” her voice was apologetic. “But... and excuse me if I overstep here, but are you sure you’re in love with our Lucy?”

That caused Flynn to do a mental double take, his eyes snapping towards Mira. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” she got that tone of voice, the one doctors use when they are trying to explain bad news to a patient without either sounding hopeful or cynical. “From what I’ve been told, you had the journal for at least a year before you stole the Mothership. You read through it, basically memorized it, and what the journal told you affected your actions and how you felt about Lucy, did it not?”

Flynn frowned. “That was why she gave me the journal. To change things.”

“Yes, but as you pointed out, it said nothing of Amy, Emma, or Jessica. Which means the Lucy who wrote it, the Lucy you apparently had a relationship with, didn’t know. She wasn’t affected by all these factors, which makes the Lucy in the journal different than the Lucy in the bunker.” Mira placed her hand on his arm. “I’m not saying this as a positive or negative. I’m just saying that you read the biography of someone else’s life, not an instruction manual.”

It was like Flynn was hit with a bucket of cold water. “I... never really thought about it that way.” 

“Tunnel vision,” she said without judgement. “You were focused on a very specific set of data points. Stop Rittenhouse and save your family. It happens to the best of us, even doctors.”

He nodded at Mira, acknowledging that she had opened his eyes to a whole other level of considerations. As she said, it wasn’t positive or negative. It could mean this Lucy didn’t love Wyatt, and he had a chance... because it wasn’t the same Lucy. _It wasn’t the same Lucy._ That thought in itself was a hard pill to swallow.

Mira dropped her hand from his arm, straightening forward. “Whatever happens, just remember, Lorena wouldn’t want you to be miserable, so do what makes you happy.”

“She’d want me to be happy, yeah.” Flynn took a deep breath, seeing things a bit more clearly now. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” A soft smile passed over her lips. “For about ten minutes there I actually forgot I was in 1948, so, I guess we’re even.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, but then settled on her profile as she stared out into the park. She was thoughtful, and he guessed what she might be thinking, so he told her, “Brian would want you to be happy.”

“Oh, I know,” she smiled fondly again.

“Excuse me if I overstep here,” he played back to her. “Was there ever anyone else?”

Mira made a comical face. “I volunteered to live in the bunker with you guys.”

“I did question your sanity, yes,” he nodded sagely and she just laughed at him.

“No, no one else,” she said lightly. “I’ve always been good alone, by myself. Brian just made me not want to be alone. It’s hard to explain.”

“I get it,” he assured her. “You find that one person in your life who makes you question everything, but in a good way, the way that makes all the pieces fit.”

“Yeah...”

“Flynn,” he heard his name called, Wyatt and Rufus were walking up the path.

“Everything taken care of?” Flynn asked as they stood. 

“Another dead Rittenhouse goon,” Wyatt informed him. “You guys?”

Mira nodded. “Weller should be discovering some successful polio cultures which means real research can finally be done on a vaccination. He’ll win a Nobel for it.”

“Good deal. Let’s go home.”

_**I’ve been blinded by many things in my life, especially in these last few years. Guilt, grief, anger… even love… all of it can so easily keep the truth just beyond the shadows. But whatever the cause, blindness can be cured by a bright shining light.** _

_**Or a sinking ship. That works too.** _

“Flynn,” she says his name and it’s so soft, almost a caress. 

“Lucy?” He looks up to see Lucy standing in front of him, blanket wrapped around her small frame. Her hair is a mess, fallen in loose curls around her shoulders. The frigid air visible as she breathes. 

She comes toward him and he opens his arms, opening his own blanket to her. With only slight hesitation, Lucy curls up into him, letting Flynn wrap his arms, his blanket, his body, around her. This one had been close, not exactly going as the journal said it would.

Rittenhouse was after some documents that were lost in the mailroom of the _Titanic_ when it sunk. The goal had been to get to them before the ship sailed, but instead, Flynn and Lucy ended up on the _Titanic_ , still hunting the Rittenhouse agent when it cast off. Wyatt and Rufus were left on the dock, near terrified. 

“New York, April 19th!” Lucy shouted at them. “Plaza Hotel! Meet us there!”

It looked like they heard her, understood, but if not, she would leave a message for them in history. It then took two days to find and stop the Rittenhouse agent, his body hidden in a trunk that would go down with the ship. Now they had two more days of waiting for tragedy to strike. Of debating with themselves if they should try to stop it. 

“This is part of the job I really hate,” Lucy says, mere hours before they would hit the iceberg. “We saved thirty six people on the Hindenburg, and I lost a sister. Save fifteen hundred lives, how many will we erase?”

The collision happened, the lifeboats were launched, not all completely full, but Flynn made sure he and Lucy were on one. They watched the ship break apart and slide into the ocean. There was screaming and sobs and slow death all around them. 

The _RMS Carpathia_ rescued 705 people in the original timeline. Now, the number would be 707. 

It would be a few days before the _Carpathia_ would make it to New York, but it would, and Wyatt and Rufus should be waiting for them. They would all be able to go home, back to the bunker, back to their lives. But right here, right now, it was just the two of them, huddled together on the deck of the rescue ship. 

Flynn remembered what Lucy wrote, that she felt safe, she felt loved. 

Lucy looks at him, her eyes wide and searching. She just wants to feel loved, and safe. She reaches up and places her hand on his cheek which is covered in a few days’ worth of stubble. Her whole body seems to lift as she moves to kiss him.

He looks away and it startles him that he does so without even thinking.

“Flynn?”

“I care about you, Lucy,” he speaks to the deep ocean because if he looks at her, he could lose his resolve. “I will always protect you, you know that. But this, between us, it will never work.”

She goes stiff, she goes defensive. “I thought this is what you wanted.”

“It’s not what you want,” he tells her a bit more harshly than he means to.

Lucy moves quickly, standing before him with her blanket tightly wrapped around her. “I want what _I_ want.”

“And you want Wyatt,” he finally meets her gaze. “You’re still in love with him.”

“I am not in love with Wyatt,” she snaps back.

“You know that’s not true,” he whispers.

The journal was right. Even though they weren't the same Lucy, one fact still remained: Lucy loves Wyatt.

The evidence was there in front of them. The way she talked about Wyatt, talked _to_ him. The way she acts towards Jessica when they run into her. Lucy trying to save her, redeem her, and not just because she was a victim of Rittenhouse, but because she thinks that’s what Wyatt wants.

The way Lucy says she’s not in love with Wyatt… but doesn’t add that she’s in love with Flynn.

Lucy is cold to him for the rest of the trip, but he knows the anger comes from her not wanting to admit he is right. That she only went to Flynn because he was someone who could make her feel loved and safe, but not someone she could love in return. And in another timeline, he might have not thought it through, just accepted her invitation in hopes of being able to convince her to let him stay.

_**It’s strange, how the most simplistic of things can be the most oblique. My heart was already torn and damaged from the loss of Lorena. I wasn’t going to serve it up to Lucy to saw through because I was a warm body on a cold dreadful night.** _

Flynn paused as he read the letter. This was exactly what he had done. He gave in to hope, a dream, and it all failed just as spectacularly as the journal said it would. And it made him miserable and alone.

_**I was a gentleman about it, of course, you know I know no other way. Then Wyatt found us in New York, the man enveloping her in a hug, proclaiming how he had been so worried, and then so relieved when he saw her name on the survival manifest.** _

_**She looked over Wyatt’s shoulder, straight at me, and I saw it, in her eyes, she knew… she knew I had been right.** _

“Your lungs sound fine,” Mira said as she finished her exam. After what he and Lucy had been through, Mira insisted both were checked for signs of pneumonia. “And with that, I’m going to give you a clean bill of health. But if you feel anything out of the ordinary, dizziness, nausea, trouble breathing, let me know immediately.”

“I will, promise,” he said as he hopped off the medical bed. 

“Good, I’d hate to have to beat you with a stick,” she joked almost absently as she wrote something down on her clipboard.

Flynn chuckled, then realized this was his moment to say it, when he had legitimate reason to be behind a closed door with Mira in a private setting. “I wanted to say thank you.”

“For the cold stethoscope on your back?” Mira frowned.

“For helping me see things better, with Lucy.”

“Oh,” the word came out a little long winded. They had only been back to the bunker for two days but it had already become clear to everyone that something had struck back up between Lucy and Wyatt. 

“The incident I told you about, it was supposed to happen on the _Titanic_ , well, the _Carpathia_ ,” he admitted to her. “But that path only leads to misery. So I chose not to take it.”

“I’m happy for you.” She gave him a soft and genuine smile. 

“Thank you,” his words were just as soft. 

They stood there, the silence turning awkward the longer it went, but neither could seem to figure out what the next step was, even though it should have been obvious.

“You can go,” Mira finally said. “I’m finished.”

Flynn nodded his thanks, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

_**I still can’t tell you when or where it happened, when my heart decided to make a permanent change of address. I can only tell you that as I stood there in the hallway, seeing Lucy slip into Wyatt’s room, I was so glad Mira had come into our lives, into my life.** _

_**She helped me to see the truth, gave me the strength to fight what might have been fate. But all she thought she was doing… was being a good friend.** _

Flynn was a master of a great many things, some of his talents knew no bounds… but flirting, actual flirting and not just trying to charm a mark or asset… well, he was freaking useless. Especially when he didn’t realize that was what he was doing.

He told Lorena she made really nice holes (referring to her application of C4). He told Lucy she aged surprisingly well. He told Mira her hands were quite practiced… in those exact words.

“They better be.” Mira gave a little tilt of her head. “I can’t really do my job without them.”

“Of course.” Flynn really wished there was something he could beat his head against. Why did he say that?

He was back in the med room, Emma having sliced him in his side. Mira told him it was lucky he was wearing so many layers of clothing. The knife didn’t cut too deep, though infection was always a worry when they got any open wounds in the past. She was putting gauze over the stitches when he made his brilliant remark about her hands.

“You doing okay?” she asked him, and the concern seemed to be about more than his current knife wound.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Lucy and Wyatt moved into a room together,” she said almost timidly. “I know what you said, before, but it has to hurt.”

“Not that much, actually,” he admitted with only a moderate amount of surprise. “I care about her, she’s a friend, but you were right, she isn’t the Lucy from the journal, and she was never going to love me. So, if Wyatt makes her happy, even if he’s an idiot, then…” he finished with a shrug.

“Those two are a damn soap opera,” Mira nearly laughed. “You’re probably lucky you got out when you did.”

“Probably,” he chuckled back.

“Oh well, it’s free entertainment at least.” Mira grabbed his shirt, undershirt, and jacket which were laying in a bundle on one of the tables. “Here you go, check your pockets and then we can throw them in the biohazard, they’re ruined.”

Flynn reached for them, his hand lightly laying over hers. It lingered for a moment and they didn’t look at each other. 

There was a knock on the door, Jiya calling through, “Hey, Mira, Rufus already popped his stitches.”

“Of course he did,” Mira sighed but there was a fondness in her voice. 

Flynn moved off to the side to check his clothes as Mira let Rufus and Jiya in. He managed to catch Mira’s eye before he left the room. She smiled at him, he smiled back. 

_**I say this with love, but I’m an idiot when it comes to certain things. Remember how I wasted almost four months not being able to ask out Lorena until Stiv literally slapped me upside the head? Well, same thing happened here, only weeks instead of months... and Rufus wouldn’t dare slap me.** _

It was another medical related jump. Well, it was actually another attempt to undermine the place of women in society. But the subject of the latest attack was Elizabeth Blackwell, the first woman to receive a medical degree in the United States and who helped pave the way for women in medicine. 

Mira was very well aware of Blackwell and her life, admired her even, so Lucy opted to stay behind to go after present day Rittenhouse. She had a plan, it was risky, and Wyatt wouldn’t let her go without him. Jiya took his spot on the Lifeboat, she had proven herself more than capable in a fight.

Though, at the moment, they had a party to attend.

It was 1857 and Blackwell was opening the New York Infirmary for Indigent Women and Children in Lower Manhattan. There was a gala event, as such things often warrant, and they were sure the Rittenhouse agent would be there. They realized the sleeper’s plan was to discredit Blackwell as a doctor, rather than just kill her, as Blackwell being proved ‘incompetent’ would have a more devastating effect.

Mira had secured herself an invite to the party after befriending Blackwell. Of course, it was assumed she had a husband to escort her. It would be far too scandalous for Rufus to take that role, so it fell to Flynn. Rufus and Jiya would sneak in as waitstaff.

Flynn was sliding on the dinner jacket for his Victorian Penguin Suit (Rufus’s words), when Rufus knocked on the door to the next room.

“You guys decent?” Rufus asked. “I left my other bag in there.”

“Come in,” Jiya called back.

Rufus opened the door and walked in. Flynn got a glimpse of Jiya fixing the skirt of Mira’s dark purple Victorian ball gown, Jiya dressed as a servant. Mira had pulled her husband’s dog tags out, undoing the chain just enough to slip her wedding ring off. Thank goodness for the high side-collar neckline which easily hid the chain once she tucked it back in. 

Mira paused for a split second before sliding her wedding ring back on her finger.

“I know we’re trying to save the future of modern medicine and all,” Rufus said from beside him, how the hell did the man manage to sneak up on Flynn, “but I speak from experience when I say a fancy party like this is a good time to ask someone out.”

Flynn didn’t even know where to start unpacking that sentence so he just gave Rufus his best ‘what the hell are you talking about’ face.

“You and Mira,” Rufus said, his eyes flitting back and forth. 

Flynn added the disappointed dad head tilt to his expression.

“Oh, come on.” Rufus rolled his eyes. “It’s obvious, like, painfully obvious. There is a reason no one was surprised you turned down Lucy’s advances.”

“How...?”

“People talk.” Rufus shrugged. “Okay, Lucy talks to Jiya, Jiya talks to me, and now that I say that out loud, I was probably supposed to keep that a secret.”

Flynn rolled his eyes and pinched his brow. “That’s not... why... there is nothing between Mira and I.”

“If you say so.” Rufus was obviously not convinced of this.

Jiya and Mira walked into the main room, ready to go. Time travel still made Mira nervous, he could see the slight tremble in her hands. This was going to be an interesting night.

They showed up at the party, on the lookout for the sleeper. This meant walking through the many rooms of the large home, greeting everyone, smiling, watching for tell-tale signs of a fellow traveler from the future. Mira did the introductions, touching Flynn lightly on the arm each time she called him her husband. 

Rufus came by with a tray of brandy filled glasses. “No luck so far.”

“Same,” Flynn said as he took a glass in order to look the part.

“Maybe we were wrong?” Mira asked as she took her own glass. “Maybe the agent didn’t come.”

“The date and address were on the paperwork we found,” Flynn pointed out. “The only reason he wouldn’t be here is if he thought we’d be.”

“So, this could be pointless,” Rufus said with false enthusiasm.

“At least the brandy’s good,” Mira said as she downed the glass.

That’s when all hell broke loose. 

The sleeper agent decided to go off book because he was caught out. Three minutes later and Flynn had the agent on the ground, dead, but Blackwell was also on the ground, bleeding out.

Mira was immediately at her side, checking the damage. Even though there were other doctors in the room—male doctors who still held some prejudices against women in the medical profession—they all folded under her commanding voice. You don’t become a successful combat medic without learning how to get soldiers to shut up, sit down, and follow orders.

“Jiya,” Mira called out to her as she pulled some stuff from one of the offered medical bags, “I need you to give her a blood transfusion.”

“Okay.” Jiya rolled up her sleeve then pulled out a chair from a dining table that had been hastily cleared off for Blackwell to lay on.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” one of the men asked. “The bleeding isn’t so bad, a transfusion could kill her.”

“Right, blood types are 1901,” Mira mumbled as she got everything ready. She then looked the man straight in the face. “The bleeding _is_ bad and I do not have the time to explain to you universal donors, just know Jiya’s blood has never killed anyone, and I know what I’m doing.”

The men continued to follow her instructions, curious at the spectacle unfolding in front of them. Before Mira was ready to get into the wound properly, she scrubbed her hands in a bowl of water she had someone bring. She slipped off her wedding ring and blindly held it towards Flynn. “Hold this for me, please.”

Flynn took it, turning it over in his hands, glancing at the inscription, then tucking it quickly into his vest pocket.

Mira went to work getting the bullet out, trying to stop the bleeding, and putting everything back together. She was focused, for exactly twenty-two minutes, then she tried to move, her skirt getting in the way as it caught on the edge of the table. Glancing up, seeing all the men in Victorian clothing gathered around the ‘ancient’ medical tools she was using, she had a moment of panic. 

It was 1857. 

Flynn moved forward and laid his hand on the small of her back. He leaned in and said quietly, “Don’t think about it. You’re doing great.”

Mira breathed, then blinked, and went back to work.

Flynn started to move away, his hand about to come off her back.

“Don’t,” Mira said, not looking up from Blackwell. “I need the distraction to occupy the part of my brain I’m not using right now.”

“Okay,” he replied, his thumb rubbing slightly as he settles back in. 

Flynn stays there during the whole surgery, occasionally caressing her back in a gentle gesture. It’s a simple thing, he thinks, to keep her mind off the past by representing her present. He relishes in the touch, the closeness, but his own mind is far to occupied to fully understand why.

Mira finally declares she is finished and Blackwell will recover, much to the applause of some very reluctant male doctors. There were so many questions they have regarding everything that just happened, some of the techniques she used.

“Gentlemen,” Flynn said in a booming but genial voice. “Let my wife make herself presentable, it would be untoward for her to address you all in such a manner.”

No one was willing to argue with him, few ever did, so he took Mira by the arm and led her out of the room, and straight for the exit. Rufus and Jiya joined them outside and they got the hell of there, going directly to the Lifeboat. 

“Is that dried blood?” Mason asked as they exited into the bunker. 

“Yes, yes it is,” Mira told him with a completely straight face as Christopher, Lucy, and Wyatt came in. “I’m going to the shower now. I may be awhile, and no one is going to complain.”

“What happened?” Wyatt asked as Mira walked off.

“Oh, of course,” Lucy said, nodding her head. “Elizabeth Blackwell, shot by an assailant. She was saved by another woman who performed emergency surgery and then... disappeared.” Lucy turned to Christopher. “Is this what you feel like all the time?”

Christopher rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’m feeling good because two successful missions, so I’ll let that slide.”

“Everything went well on your end I take it?” Flynn asked and the next half hour or so was spent updating the team on everything Lucy was able to find out about Rittenhouse, some of their plans, and ways they could possibly hurt them back. 

Rufus caught up with Flynn as he headed to his room to change out of his penguin suit. “Hey, so, about what I said earlier, about you and Mira.”

“Come to take it back?” Flynn groused.

“Oh, hell no,” Rufus almost laughed. “I’ve never been more sure. So this is me doing my best Sebastian impression... ahem... _lalalala, go on and kiss the girl_.”

“You know I can kill you, right?” 

“Yes, but you won’t.” Rufus grinned. “Admit it, you like me.”

Flynn shook his head and started to walk off.

“Seriously though, man.” Rufus stopped him. “I know you had something for Lucy, before, and it had this dark intensity to it that might not have been healthy. But ever since Mira got here, you’ve been happy... simply... happy. It’s been a good look on you.”

“Correlation does not imply causation.” 

“True, but am I wrong?” Rufus grinned again. “Just think about it.”

Rufus walked off and Flynn pushed it from his mind. Rufus was being ridiculous. Mira was a friend, they talked, they did some stuff together, they... no, no it couldn’t be that. It was a proximity thing. They were in the bunker together, this wasn’t anything but... proximity... yeah... 

**_I was confused, making excuses, trying to play it all off. My heart was already so damaged, I didn’t want to risk it again. Because what if she didn’t feel the same? What if it was just a case of cramped quarters breeding bedfellows? What if... what if..._ **

**_What if I had saved my family and not let them down._ **

**_I was no good to anyone._ **

In his room, Flynn started to undress from all the layers. He got to his vest and felt the ring in his pocket, Mira’s wedding ring. She had confessed one day that it felt weird for her to wear it when she did surgery because she had trained and worked so long without anything on her fingers. It just felt... off. Her husband knew it didn’t mean she loved him any less.

He looked at his own ring, Lorena’s name inscribed on the inside, Iris’ added later. 

Sitting Mira’s ring on the table, he decided he’d change and then find her to give it back. 

Flynn was down to his wife-beater undershirt, which he always felt was an unfortunate name for it. His shoes were on the bed and his suspenders were hanging off his hips. He didn’t even think about how he looked when he opened the door. Mira was standing there in a t-shirt and jeans, her hair damp and overly curly. She stared at him and then tried not to.

“I just,” she stuttered, “my ring.”

“Of course,” he said and walked to the table, picking it up. 

He passed it to her and she undid the clasp on the chain, slipping the ring back on. She didn’t tuck them back inside her shirt, only laid her hand over the dog tags, feeling them.

“Thank you, for earlier,” she said, trying to smile but something was bothering her.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tried to make light.

“I do... worry about it.” Mira swallowed hard.

Flynn frowned. “Why?”

“Because, as I focused on the surgery, in the back of my mine, in the part I have to shut out to focus,” her voice kept getting quieter, “I could only think of one thing.”

“What...”

Mira shook her head. “No, sorry, this was a mistake.”

Her words were rushed and she was clearly about to rabbit. Flynn couldn’t let her go, didn’t want to let her go, and he couldn’t explain why if he tried. He reached out to comfort her, that was the plan, but instead, somehow, Mira ended up flush against his body, his head dipped and her on her toes, kissing each other as if it was the same as breathing.

But breathe they had to do, and he found himself looking down into Mira’s wide eyes. Had she always been this beautiful, he just never looked so closely?

“That’s all I could think about,” she whispered.

There was no way for him to describe just how good she felt against his body. It was like discovering a new recipe and realizing it was the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Asking yourself why you never thought to do this before. And all you wanted was more, for it to last, to never run out.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say, pushing her away, though he could barely open the gap between them, he didn’t want to lose that connection.

“Sorry?” She was confused, hurt, then realization flashed in her eyes, followed by terror and embarrassment. “You don’t… you don’t want me. That’s… yeah, of course.”

Mira cleared her throat and started to pull away, but he couldn’t let her go, not until he explained. “No, it’s not that, I… you wouldn’t want me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Flynn let out a sad little sigh. “Shall I make you a list?”

“Sure,” she said as she got closer, barely touching him. “What’s number one?”

“Ah,” he stalled, caught up in how she commanded his presence despite being a head shorter than him. God did he have a type. Everything washed out of his mind except the heat and warmth that radiated between their bodies. 

“You know I can leave this bunker any time I want to, right?” she reminds him, her voice too raw to be anything but truth. “I stay because… because you make the pieces fit.”

His lips are on hers again, powerful and consuming. His arms are around her waist, nearly lifting her off her feet. Could this be real? He wouldn’t dare so much as think about the word love in that moment, but connection, caring, intimacy… was it all right there, in front of him? Could he have this?

Mira pulls her mouth away and they ended up with their foreheads resting against each other. She whispers, but her voice is solid. “I can’t promise you a grand romance for the ages or anything like that. But I can promise you there is no place I’d rather be than here, right now, with you.”

**I was skittish, because of course I was. After everything I had gone through. Losing Lorena and becoming a man she wouldn’t recognize. Falling in love with what ended up being a phantom, an idea of a person who no longer exists. Realizing that perhaps I was never meant to find peace as punishment for what I have done.**

**Mira was patient with me, but she wasn’t going to coddle me either. She pushed me just enough, challenged me just the right amount, to let me know that I was worthy of what she, or any other, could give me.**

They favored Flynn’s room because it was the farthest from everyone else. They weren’t prudes, they just didn’t think it was anyone else’s business what they got up to. Besides, between the sickly-sweet adorableness of Rufus and Jiya, and the drama laced soap opera that was Lucy and Wyatt, they figured the bunker didn’t need them to add anything to it.

Not that anyone had any doubt what Flynn and Mira were doing.

Flynn never removed his ring, and Mira never took off the dog tags, neither having to explain to the other why. 

_**Mira kept her room, we both understood the need to have a space we could call our own.** _

_**We had both been married, both had marriages that would still be strong today if not for tragedy. We were asked if we would marry again. You know our answer. Lorena was our wife. Brian was Mira’s husband. No one else would be able to carry those titles.** _

_**It didn’t mean we loved each other any less.** _

“Everything okay?” Flynn said as Mira walked into his room. He was sitting on his bed, reading a biography of Nikola Tesla. 

“I’d invoke doctor-patient confidentiality,” she said as she slipped her shoes off, “but I’m pretty sure everyone already knows what’s going on.”

Flynn sighed. “Please don’t say Lucy is pregnant.”

“She’s not,” Mira assured him and laid down on the bed, draping her legs over his. “I shouldn’t have to give the safe sex practices talk to grown-ass adults.”

“Are you really surprised though?” 

“No… not really,” she half chuckled. “I put condoms in the Lifeboat emergency medical kit… just in case.”

“Smart,” he laughed. 

It’s not that he had any aversion to Lucy and Wyatt starting a family, just questioned the timing of it. Sure, they were gaining a lot of ground on Rittenhouse. There might actually be a light at the end of this tunnel. So right now was not the best time for Lucy to be in the position of being pregnant. 

Especially that once she got far enough along, she wouldn’t be able to travel. And as much as Wyatt annoyed him, never would he wish for Wyatt to come back and find out that somehow the pregnancy didn’t happen. Or for both parents to return and find their child didn’t exist anymore. 

His heart would never heal in the spot that Iris was torn from. Even when he brings her back, that wound would never stop bleeding.

Flynn glanced over at Mira who had her eyes closed, relaxing, and he realized this was on subject they had never actually discussed. Well, no time like the present. 

“Mira, don’t read into this or anything, but do you want kids?”

Her eyes snapped open and she looked right at him.

“I said don’t read into it,” he added dryly.

“Well… short answer: yes. But we both know that’s a complicated question.”

“Yeah, it is,” Flynn looked ahead, remembering his own discussions with Lorena before they decided to have children.

Mira moved her legs so she could sit up on the bed next to him. “I think there is a bigger question here. Do you want another child?”

Flynn choked because he forgot to breathe. 

No one could replace Iris, but it’s not that he couldn’t love another child just as much. He and Lorena had even discussed maybe trying again, now that Iris was older. But could he bring another life into this world? After what he had done? And could he put his heart on the line again. If he lost them… nothing would be able to bring him back from the brink.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” Mira said, taking his hand in hers. “You don’t have to answer it at all. I’m going to be here, regardless.”

He couldn’t get the words ‘thank you’ out so he spoke them with a gentle kiss. 

_**It took me several days of very deep soul searching, and while I haven’t told Mira yet, I made a decision. Once we stop Rittenhouse, if Mira would have me, I wanted to settle down and start a family with her. I will never give up on Lorena and Iris. And they wouldn’t want me to give up on myself.** _

_**That is why I am writing this letter, because I don’t want you to give up on yourself.** _

_**Maybe you and Lucy worked out after all? Maybe you found a happier ending? And if that’s the case, just be honest with Mira. She knew one day this could happen, she knows about the letter. It will hurt, but she’ll be happy for you.** _

_**But… if everything has fallen apart, if you feel like you’re alone and that your fate is to be miserable, that this is what you deserve, I want you to know you are wrong.** _

_**You are loved, Garcia Flynn.** _

_**You are allowed to be loved.** _

Flynn was trembling, the letter nearly falling from his hands. 

There was so much for him to take in, he didn’t know where to start. 

He went to 1955 and came back to a better life. One where he had someone who was his friend, who was uncomplicated, who understood, who loved him. And it was all washed away in an instant.

How can he feel so acutely the loss of something he never physically had?

“Sorry,” the voice is nervous. Mira is standing in the doorway, frozen in half stride like a deer. She sees the note and looks away, towards the desk. “I need my laptop.”

Mira doesn’t ask for permission, stepping quickly across the room as if she’s walked in on a roommate having sex but needs something bad enough to risk it. She grabs the laptop and starts to just as swiftly exit.

“Mira,” he says her name, not sure why.

“It’s fine, it’s okay,” she practically blurts out, clutching her laptop to her chest. “I’ll come back in an hour and clear out my stuff if you want to… be… somewhere else.”

Flynn stands, getting a look at Mira in a new light. This woman who knew him intimately, to the very depth of his soul. Who loves him. These facts are clear as day, written in her eyes as she looks at him. 

He holds the letter out between them. “This is all true.”

She takes a breath. “It’s a biography, not an instruction manual.”

The painful truth is a wall between them. He’s not the man she met two years ago. That Flynn was gone, lost, like her husband. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Mira went soft, caring. “You wrote the letter because we knew this could happen. We knew what we were getting into.”

Her shirt is pulled taunt by the way she is holding the laptop. He can see the dog tags through the fabric. 

“I’ll just go,” she swallows hard. 

“Don’t,” he finds himself saying. 

Stepping forward, he takes the laptop from her and sits it down on the nearest available surface. He then wraps his arms around the woman who goes stiff, unsure. 

“I can’t promise you a grand romance,” he tells her softly, “I can’t promise you anything actually.”

“So don’t make any promises,” she replies quietly, relaxing and wrapping her arms around him.

The hug is simple, meant to convey comfort between two strangers.

But a hug can be a promise, whether you want it to be or not. 

/end

**Author's Note:**

> The Twitter prompt was: "Sometimes I think of an alternate canon where the team (Flynn included!) returns but they changed something in the past and there is a military medic that lives in the bunker. It turns out Flynn and her are not only together but she's pregnant... | She lost her husband in Iraq so they bond over shared loss They aren't married & don't intend to. She reveals that her timeline Flynn knows that every time they jump it's possible a Flynn returns that has no idea who she is, so each time before a mission... | He writes a letter and includes pictures of their relationship to let whichever Flynn that returns know that he is loved and cared for, not expendable #GarciaFlynnDeservedBetter"
> 
> I made some deviations from the prompt, but the core is there: Garcia Flynn Deserved Better.
> 
> Fun fact: this is the first time I've ever written a Main Character/Original Character piece that wasn't a past thing for background purposes.


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